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sinisternymphette · 7 months ago

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everybody loves my baby

an historical au | 1930's florist!reader x dilfgangster!rafe (minors dni)✶

tw: v!olence, sex

✶ gangster!rafe, who makes sure everyone knows that you're off limits. Whether it is by gently placing his hand on the back of your soft neck and slowly caressing it with his calloused knuckles, using one of his large fingers to softly trail down one of your arms while the both of you are sitting next to each other in a restaurant, putting his muscled arm around you like a mantle, giving you warmth and comfort, and even taking your hand in his to plant a kiss on the palm as he closes his eyes and sniffs to take in your scent without the care of what others might think of your intimacy. You were his and he was yours, and that was truly all that mattered.

✶ gangster!rafe, who would do anything to protect you. Literally. If anyone ever laid a hand on his pretty little florist, they'd have to go through him, and it certainly wouldn't end so jolly.

"You dared to touch my woman, hm. Well, not so confident now, are you."

he said in a low, menacing chuckle as he shook his head slowly, cornering the man before him in the lonely and dimly lit corridor behind the bar. He had gone to the washroom for just one minute- one minute without you in his plane on sight, and a man walked over to you and started complimenting you before giving you a rose. That wasn't the problem though. When you thanked him kindly and smelled the rose, he pulled his arm up to brush a strand out of your face. And so, he had to take the matter to his own hands.

"Now now, i'm sure you're a good fella and understand that it was just a minor misunderstanding!"

the man quickly said in a pleading tone, obvious fear in his wide eyes, which were easily comparable to a frightened doe's, before proceeding to pat Rafe's shoulder with one of his shaking hands- almost as if they were old friends. Rafe shook his hand away in a swift motion, as if he had just been touched by a rat who had come out off a trash can. He punched the man on his ribcafe after his fake of a charming smile vanished and turned into a dark frown as if he was no longer who he was before. His other hand reached to the other's mouth as the man made muffled yowls of pain. He, however, didn't even flinch once.

"You're damn lucky i'm a generous man, so make sure to take this as a lesson for the future, yes? to keep your hands to yourself? wouldn't want to cut all your fingers off and make a mess on my shirt."

he then smirked almost playfully, his expression once again changing in a matter of seconds before moving his hand up and shaking it, then putting it inside the pockets of his brown pants and using the other in order to adjust his white, high quality long-sleeved shirt. The man was now practically on the floor, whimpering as he crouched against the stone wall behind him as he shamefully covered his face with his shaking hands. It was truly an embarrassing sight. Once Rafe was finished, he turned his back and opened the back door to the bar, tilting his head to the side and staring at him one last time.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to more important matters- the wonderful evening I was having with her before you, very rudly I might say, abruptly interfered."

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes giving you nicknames that represent your beauty such as 'dollface', 'peach', and his personal favorite, 'dandelion'. You absolutely adore them too- the way they always roll off his tongue so sweetly, like butter being spread on a slice of bread. He's a man who admires and cares for your body, your mind and very being as if you were a princess or a delicate porcelain vase with beautiful painted flowers.

"Look at you, m' pretty dandelion all dolled up for me." he murmurs as he carefully places his head over your shoulder, blue orbs looking into your eyes through the mirror of your bedroom while his hands found your waist and gently nestled around it. His lips were slightly curved upwards, making the hint of his smile shown to you. One of his fingers traced small circles on your waist, making you let out a small and flustered chuckle as you covered your mouth with one of your hands in a polite manner to hide it. You were wearing one of your newer dresses- a pretty light blue polka-dotted dress that perfectly hugged your figure. This, was one of the many dresses Rafe gifted you in the past two weeks. Your lips had red tint and your cheeks had a faint pink color on them- a little bit of makeup, but not too much. His eyes trailed down, all the way to the contour of your legs and to the white leathered heels you were wearing. in his eyes, you truly were a work of art- like a Renaissance painting that had come to life. Now, he was a man that firmly believed that actions spoke more than words, so as soon as his eyes met with yours once again, he planted sweet kisses on your neck alongside little nibbles. This, was his own way of letting you know that you looked absolutely stunning.

✶ gangster!rafe, who, despite having so much blood on his hands, is always careful with you and tries to avoid showing you his darker side as much as he can. Who doesn't want you to know all the sins he has done, all the people he had killed before, in fear of loosing you forever.

''Y'know how much I care about you, right kid?'' he asks after taking a long drag from his cigarette, voice almost a whisper as he's sitting on the sofa of your living room while you laid next to him, head resting on the armrest and legs over his lap while his free hand slowly massages one of your bare feet. He stared at you, blinking slowly. The sudden of a question made you open your once closed eyes and perk your head up to look up at him with an innocent, confused stare. ''Well, certainly. I always have.'' you replied softly, giving him a reassuring smile before it vanished as soon as it appeared. You sensed that something was wrong. After all, why else would he ask this? ''Why do you ask?'' you continued, now scanning the expression on his face, despite the fact that he was a very hard man to read. He swallowed, but maintained eye contact. ''Nothin'. Just wanted to let you know how much I love you all over again.'' He knew he shouldn't lie to you- that he should tell you the truth about where all his money comes from, how his family got as powerful as it is, what kind of person he actually is. But it was too dangerous. Luckily for him, he was a good liar, an actor- if you may call it that. He grabbed the foot he was massaging and placed it near his lips before he kissed each one of your fingers in a slow, sensual manner. This made you relax and soon enough, you were resting once again, breathing calmly as you felt safe in his presence.

✶ gangster!rafe, who tries to stop by the flower shop every single day to say hello. No matter how busy he was, how much trouble he had gotten himself into, what kind of business he was doing that day, he never forgot about you. Ever.

✶ gangster!rafe, who likes to take you back to where the both of you had first met every once in a while. The place, in question, is les deus magots.

✶ gangster!rafe, who might be rough between the sheets, but is as gentle as he can be afterwards and makes your comfort his prime priority.

you let out quiet mews as he pounded into you, you legs wrapped around his hips as your plush breasts jiggled up and down in rhythm with his thrusts. Your plump lips remained parted as you felt out of breath, feeling an intense flutter in your tummy that only got stronger as his movements picked up a speed. It felt so good- too good, in fact. You couldn't help but let out some tears that started to run down your cheeks, eyes closed shut as you listened to his grunts. The bed was shaking, making the crackling sound echo through the bedroom.

''There you go, shhh, you're okay.'' he whispers soothingly as he plants a soft kiss on the side of your cheek, both of you laying inside the warm bathtub. There were scented candles on the bathroom countertops, The lights on the pastel green walls turned off in order to enhance the ambiance of the room. Your muscles finally relaxed, and you felt yourself slowly start drifting into sleep while one of Rafe's hands massaged your shoulders. He seems content, blue eyes full of emotion as he looks down at you, hot breath against your neck and tiny droplets of water landing on your back from his wet and messy hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who lets you spend his money on whatever you want, no matter what. All you have to do is ask, and he'll give you some cash- no questions asked.

✶ gangster!rafe, who loves the way your eyes brighten up whenever you're at the park and you find a pretty flower. Who later takes it from your little hands and places it on your hair.

✶ gangster!rafe, who gifted you a puppy one day as a surprise .

''So, I got you a little something.'' he tells you while he held in front of you a rather large red box with a big white bow around it between his arms. His tone was blunt, his expression the same as always, yet he was lightly tapping his foot against the wooden floor of your home. You were confused, to say the least, But of course- you accepted it, quickly taking it from his hands- perfectly manicured nails gripping it tightly. It was heavy- very heavy. ''Oh! I wonder what it could be!!'' you said almost in a lyrical shriek, excitement in your voice as you sat down on your sofa, legs crossed while you placed it right next to you. Suddenly, it moved, and your widening eyes drifted from the package to Rafe. ''No...no.. gosh, Rafe don't tell me it's what I think it is'' you murmured, placing your hands over your mouth. You were met with silence. Of course he didn't answer. Instead, he just tilted his head, almost as if he was attempting to hide the sly grin that was beginning to form on his lips. Not being able to control your excitement any longer, you carefully opened the box, taking the upper part away and revealing what was inside. You gasped, and your pretty shrieks of happiness filled the room. Rafe Cameron had gifted you a cocker spaniel puppy. A real puppy- not a plushie. ''Oh my goodness.. oh my goodness! oh wow- I have no words!'' you ran up to him and hugged him tightly- maybe a little too much. The puppy trotted towards the both of you and barked happily. ''Glad to be makin' you happy, peach'' he said before gently taking your chin in his hand to make you look up at him before kissing you on the lips.

✶ gangster!rafe, who wouldn't admit it out loud, but sometimes thinks that maybe.. you really are 'the one' for him...

✶ a/n : GUYS GUYS I DID IT!! I know this is a bit short, but tbh.. I might write more about gangster!rafe in the future :) if anyone wants to request something with him you can feel free to do so too. I tried to include a little smut, but eh.. this was my first ever fic (if you could even call this a fic) so it's probably a bit...meh. Either way, I'm glad I finally finished it, and I hope it was enjoyable to read!!

✶ creds : @amariisflossy for the gangster!rafe idea, @dollywons for the second header

@sinisternymphette 2024

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jaewritesfic · 4 months ago

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Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost

#melon!au #cassandra cain #batfam #batman #eldritch danny #creepy danny phantom #danny: terrifying clawed shadow thing #cass: “is this a baby?”#bruce: “is this a baby?”#batfam: “is this a baby?”#damian: “give me the care instructions. we're keeping it.”

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sparklingchim · 2 years ago

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number 7; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 3k

rating: 18+

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, brother’s best friend, college!au

warnings: v jelly googie 😐, brat oc & brat tamer jk !! 🫢, mirror sex, overstimulation, possessiveness, squirting, dirty talk, marking, they love bickering, cum eating, spanks, jaykay's lowkey a simp <3, taking kinda? naughty pictures 😋, choking, tummy bulging, size kink, name calling

summary: pov: your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.

a/n: i couldn't resist 👩🏻‍💻 m tew obsessed w him what can i say ✋🏼

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You don’t know how exactly this situation unfurled.

It just kind of happened.

One minute you were on your way to Jungkook’s shabby dorm, padding briskly across the dim campus to fetch your journal that you accidentally misplaced in his apartment – and the next, Jungkook is fucking you in front of his mirror while you are clad in nothing but his jersey.

The correlation between your initial ambition and your current circumstance is a tiny mix of fragmented thoughts in your mind as Jungkook unceasingly thrusts into you.

You just wanted your journal back.

But Jungkook gave you his dick instead.

His oversized jersey swallows your body. He has the soft material tightly bundled in his hand at your lower back.

“God, Jungkook.”

His cock stretches your cunt deliciously, rutting into you with full force.

Your palms are placed on Jungkook’s fully-body mirror, and you feel partly guilty for dirtying it with your fingerprints. But it’s not like either of you genuinely care about producing a mess the way Jungkook fiercely pounds into you from behind. You both are destined to create a mess when you’re together.

Your eyes meet in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” Jungkook rasps. His palm smooths over your clothed back, pulling your hair to the side to get a clearer view of the imprint.

Jeon Jungkook. 7.

Seeing you in in his jersey sprouted carnal desire in Jungkook, something plainly self-indulgent. It dwindled his freshly blossomed possessiveness from recent events but made his need for you grow even bigger.

“Such a filthy girl, aren’t you?” He returns your stare in the mirror, mussed bangs fluttering over his forehead.

“Harder, Jungkook,” you demand breathlessly.

“What’s the word?” You see his eyebrow twitch slightly in the mirror.

“Please - please fuck me harder, Jungkook.”

His hands are firmly anchored in your hips and he changes his lunges to sharper, rougher ones. Your heartbeat roars in your ears, legs trembling as his length is deeply sheathed inside, his tip kissing places that elicit the softest whines from you.

“You like this, don’t you?” His big hand snakes around your throat. “Like getting fucked like a slut?”

The pads of his fingers press into you and your eyes blur. Just the sight of his inked hand on your throat makes your pussy squeeze his cock, the giddiness flourishing everywhere, reaching your fingertips and bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pretty princess loves to get fucked like a slut, hm?” he whispers.

“Yes, yes I do – fuck.”

His hushed, dirty words kindle the tingle in your tummy and you fall apart beneath him, a sniffled moan scurrying past your lips.

A dark scoff hits the base of your neck. “That’s a good girl.” He plants the tiniest kiss on your shoulder, releasing your throat from his grip. “Always so good.”

Jungkook draws you into his arms, moving to his bed with you.

“On your back,” he instructs, pushing you down on his bed.

You get comfortable on his soft duvet, legs spread. Jungkook’s hand is braced at the back of your thigh. He eases his cock back into you, tongue darting out as your tight walls enclose him again.

He tugs the jersey up, staring at the way he vanishes between your velvety pussylips, your tummy bulging when he bottoms out. Jungkook moves leisurely, the way he moves his hips so sinful and practised, the thin curb chain in silver he is wearing dangles over your face.

“Pretty,” you chunter. You reach out and play with it a little as Jungkook places his palm on your tummy with a little pressure. “Mhmm, Jungkook.” Your toes curl in pleasure and he smirks, giving your knee a tiny peck. “You’re so big,” you slur.

“Your little pussy takes me so well,” he praises. His hand disappears under his jersey, and he palms your supple breast. Your tiny nub pops out when Jungkook pinches and plays with it.

You choke on a gasp. Your legs impulsively wrap around him to drag him closer.

“Mine.” Jungkook’s fierce eyes trail down your body. “All mine.”

A sprinkle of playfulness sets on your face. “You’re still jealous because of Chanyeol?”

A day has passed since the kiss cam made Chanyeol and you kiss. You weren’t able to see Jungkook after the game because his team went out for dinner after their win.

As usual Taehyung invited you, but you declined. The way your brother spoke to you with cold eyes was reason enough to stay home instead. Jungkook was following your little conversation from the back, his secret glances prickling your skin.

When Taehyung came back home, he didn’t waste a second to reprimand you. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he interrupted your Sims 4 gameplay, rudely disregarding the reality tv show that was blasting on tv, with his annoying nagging and unnecessary enquiries.

He even dared to ask is Chanyeol your boyfriend? And you wanted to answer yes just to annoy him.

But you also wanted to resume building a house for your Sims family and watch your reality tv show in peace, so you grimaced, a harsh no rolling off your tongue.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes his cheek. “ ‘m not,” he denies, thrusts turning keener.

“Sure you’re not.” The pad of your fingers trickle along his broad front. “Chanyeol-” His name leaves your mouth as a moan when Jungkook pounds into you deep, his cock reaching spots that make you breathless for a moment. “Chanyeol is a good kisser.”

“He can have your mouth.” Jungkook’s leans down, shadowy eyes staring straight into yours. You inhale shakily. “He can have a little kiss.” His tone is tinted with mockery, combined with a condescending undercurrent. “But your pussy,” – Jungkook lifts your chin with his thumb – “is mine.”

Your heart beats abnormally in your chest.

“Prove it.”

Jungkook is not in the least swayed by your provocation. He’s become used to it by now.

His brow twitches, the challenge twinkling in his eyes. Jungkook stops, his hand is on the curve of your hip, demanding you to flip over.

“Ass up.” He tugs your ass up in the air. His palm rests on the back of your head. “Face down.”

There’s nothing that makes you heart flutter more than sparking the fire in Jungkook.

He squeezes his cock between your plush pussylips. A forceful push of his hips coaxes a whiny moan from you.

“Prove it?” Jungkook ridicules you. “Fucking take it then.”

His hips clash against your body and you nuzzle your face deep into the pillow as a cry flies past your lips. Jungkook pounds you into his mattress, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

He eyes keep wandering to his name printed on the jersey. Your tiny, stunning body swathed in what belongs to him. It reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does – that you keep coming back to him because you want to be with him as much as he wants to be with you. That you can’t get enough of his cock as he can’t from your pussy. That you keep this secret arrangement going because neither of you is ready to let go.

And Jungkook makes sure it remains that way by fucking you the way he knows you will inevitably cum around his cock.

“Always so naughty, so bratty,” he spits, striking your ass. “You wanna act like a brat?” He smacks you again, harder. “Then you’re getting fucked like one.”

Jungkook wears a frown on his face. The wet sounds of his cock ruining your pussy spurs him on. His skin slaps against yours, creating obscene sounds that are one of Jungkook’s favourites.

After wetting his thumb with his spit, he dips his pad into your other hole, just to tease a little. You wriggle beneath him, whiny sounds erupting from you.

“Let me tease,” he shushes, spitting on your puckered hole and circling his thumb over it. “Gonna fuck your ass the next time you behave like a fucking brat.”

“God,” you mutter into the pillow.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” Jungkook removes his finger just when you started relaxing, earning a prolonged whimper from you. “You’re not the only one who gets to tease, princess.” Jungkook feels your walls clamp together. He hisses at your tight pussy, swallowing his own desire to fill you up and focusing on you instead.

“G-gonna cum. Fuck – I’m so close.”

“That’s what I thought.” His voice is dripping in contempt, but that’s exactly what prompts you to reach your high like a whirlwind. “Moan my fucking name when you cum.”

“Jungkook.” You meekly whine his name, heavy puffs hit the pillow as the feeling in your tummy expands into your entire body.

“Good girl.” His saccharine lilt dispels your drowsiness, gently drawing you back to reality.

Jungkook withdraws his cock from your clenching walls. You complain in a sulky grumble at the loss.

You lift your head and crane your neck around.

His doe eyes shimmer in a way that you can’t quite pinpoint. Before you can ask him, Jungkook spreads your cheek apart with one hand, his other plunging two fingers inside your soft pussy.

Your head plops down again as a shrill squeak springs from your chest.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His fingers are fast, unyielding. “You’re gonna cum again for me.”

“Too much.”

“Yeah? Too much?” Mock sympathy bleeds from his voice. The pad of his fingers rub over your sensitive spot. “I know you can take it,” Jungkook says. “I know my pussy can take it.”

Your fingers claw at the pillow beneath your face, muffled mewls flying across your lips. He gets you to the point of losing yourself in another climax fast, his deft fingers know precisely how to move inside you, how to get your walls spasm around them as the feeling builds up in your tummy.

“Huh, princess?” His other hand delivers a teasing spank on your ass. “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Always so greedy.”

You want to say no I’m not gonna cum, want to act bratty again just because, but your head answers his taunting question with little, desperate yeses like a mantra.

The muscles in your belly contract when everything in your body begins to tingle. You tremble, pussy pulsating from the sensitivity. It’s so intense your hands hurt from gripping the pillow for dear life. The sounds in the room are nasty, so wet. More prominent than usual.

You are frazzled, a quivering mess lying limply on his rustled sheets.

Jungkook’s fingers are still sheathed between your fluttering walls, but his movements have stopped. “Fuck, princess,” he says with wonder. “You squirted everywhere.”

Your perplexity wins over your need to catch your breath and you turn your head, blinking in confusion. “I did what?”

“Squirted,” he curtly repeats in a mumble, popping his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean.

It has happened before, just very rarely. But every time you have, Jungkook eyes sparkled in a lustful and dreamy way – like right now.

“Was that good, huh?” He ribs, lips curving up into a smirk.

With a tired sigh, your cheek meets the cushiony pillow. You mumble something incoherent.

Jungkook stoops down. His hand brushes over your hair, smoothing some flyaways that sprouted from your wriggling.

“Don’t underestimate me.” His voice is low, eliciting tingles on your skin, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is soft, feather light.

You smile, a little deliriously, a little awestruck.

You roll onto your back. “Where do you wanna cum?”

Jungkook sits on his heels, lazily stroking his cock. He ogles your body, tiny puffs bubbling from his mouth. Instinctively, your catch your lower lip with your teeth. Watching Jungkook pleasure himself, the view of his tatted hand in general, makes your fingertips itch in anticipation.

You exchange your hand with his while he still muses over his choices.

He gazes at you slack-jawed. “Face,” Jungkook utters between desperate moans.

You shake your head. It is tempting, considering Jungkook’s yearning eyes, but you don’t want to ruin your make-up. “I still have somewhere to go.”

A frown twists his features. “Where are you going? It’s late.”

“It’s not late,” you argue.

“It’s dark outside. I should bring you home.” His hand closes around yours, signalising to tighten your grasp on his cock. You do, pumping him with a little more pressure. The soft sounds from his lips that follow are like music to your ears.

“It’s just the stationary shop. Need to stock up on some things.”

“Stickers?” he questions, brows furrowed when your hand moves faster.

“Yeah. And my black gel pen too.”

“The 0.5 mm one?”

You giggle. “Yes, that one.”

You lean closer to add a little spit on his dick, but you can’t help but tease him a little. You glide your tongue over the underside of his cock, swirl around his flush tip and suck a little on it.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Mouth feels so good.”

You continue with kitten licks, eyes casted upwards to catch every reaction. The visible muscles on Jungkook’s tummy strain as he nears his climax.

“Gonna cum,” he chokes out.

You draw back, pumping his cock as breathy, helpless moans escape Jungkook. Strings of white land on his defined abdomen and you watch him release with avid eyes.

“So much,” you mumble, flicking your finger through the mess on Jungkook’s glistening skin and sticking your cum covered pad into your mouth.

Gaspingly, Jungkook reaches for tissues on the bedside table. He cleans himself up before he orders you to lie down. He spreads your legs apart by pushing your thigh and tenderly cleans you as well.

He haphazardly tosses the dirty tissues back on his table.

“Wanna take a shower?” Jungkook mutters into the crook of your neck.

You throw your leg over his cinched waist. “I gotta go. The stationary shop will close soon.”

Jungkook pulls his jersey up, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbones and down to your tits. He shortly teases your sensitive bud with his tongue before he presses a kiss below your boob. You feel him suck your skin between his puffy lips and utter a whiny complaint.

“No marks.” You lightly kick him with your heel on his ass.

Jungkook grouses against your skin. “No one’s gonna see it here.” He says affronted.

“I couldn’t wear the cute top I wanted today because of this.” You point to the faint purple mark beneath your collarbone.

“You look cuter in this anyway,” he retorts smoothly, giving your tit one last peck. “Should wear it more often.” He covers your body with his jersey again.

You grow shy beneath his stare, but you push him off your body and stand up. Jungkook fluffs the pillow and lets his back hit the mattress.

He has a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “You look so fucking sexy in my jersey.” His tongue swipes over his pink bottom lip. “Do a little twirl for me.” With his palm tucked under his head, he watches with relish as you spin.

You giggle mid-turn, a bubbly feeling swelling in your chest.

“Pretty.” Jungkook grabs his phone from the nightstand. “Lemme snap a pic.” He sits up.

You turn your back to him, and he gently pulls your hair to the side.

Jungkook has a vast collection of pictures of you from numerous nights spent in each other's bed. He takes joy in photography, and being Jungkook’s muse feels oddly fulfilling – but only on condition that your face is not visible in any of his snapshots.

You gasp when your feel Jungkook’s sneaky hand pull up his jersey and grab a handful of your ass. He chuckles at your reaction and takes quick pictures of the pretty ass in front of him.

“Yah,” you scold him, turning around again.

He flashes you the softest, dimpled smile and you are momentarily struck dumb by his effortless prettiness.

He grabs your hand and pulls you onto his lap. “Lemme come with you.”

You arrange his tangly bangs. “You know we can’t.” You’re very careful not to be seen with Jungkook. Rumours spread quickly here.

“No one will see us in the stationary store,” he insists.

“Why do you even wanna go there.” You quirk an eyebrow. “There’s nothing for you there.”

Jungkook shrugs indifferently, but you catch the corner of his lips lift faintly. “You’re there.”

“Stop playing,” you say, nudging his shoulder. But you can’t help the smile that forms on your face.

“Watchu doing tomorrow?”

“Shopping for a dress. Mum said I should dress nicely for the dinner with Minho and his parents.”

You don’t want your parents to come over for the weekend. And you certainly don’t want to have dinner with their friends, whose son they’re trying to set you up with.

“We won’t see each other then?” Jungkook asks, squeezing your bare thigh.

Your fingers find his necklace and you toy with it a little. “Probably.” You lean closer to catch his mouth in a kiss before you get up. “I’m gonna head out now.”

“Send me pics,” Jungkook tells you in his sweet voice.

“Huh?”

“In that dress you’re gonna buy. I wanna see you in it.”

You titter at his shamelessness. “Behave for once, Jungkook.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Say that again and I’ll throw you over my lap.”

He knows exactly what he is doing. He sports a proud smile on his face, cocking his head in provocation.

You muse over it as you step into your panties. Your eyes land on your journal on Jungkook’s desk.

You’d like to stay, but the stationary store. You wanted to spend a cosy evening in your room, journaling with some new supplies to finish off the hectic day.

You remove Jungkook’s jersey from your body. His round eyes immediately land on your naked figure.

Mischievousness contorts your features. “Next time,” you promise.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

read pt 1 here if u haven't <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook college au

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soulchronicity · 5 months ago

Text

AU Masterlist

Mostly for personal use. Planned to get updated every so often. It's really long, so it's going under a cut. Please feel free to ask us about any of these AUs.

DS AU [made by Connor] Summary - Our first CJ AU, based on a roleplayed game of Minecraft Murder Mystery and then expanded by more Minecraft roleplay. Soul kills Mind, tries to kill Heart and fails. At least, that's the usual ending. Heart: Bullet (bad end) / Dim ("good" end) [they/them] Mind: Lag [he/it] Soul: DS [it/he] --- AU information and refs are on Artfight [here]. Be sure to read the warnings in the first section.

Chess AU [made by Connor] Summary - A disgraced god sees a chance to have some fun and takes three (meant to be two) mortals into his pocket dimension to play a chess themed death game. Heart: Artemis Acoustic [they/he/she] Mind: Apollo Electric [he/it] Soul: Atlas Eclectic [he/it/they] Whole: Harmonia [he/him] --- We don't post much about this one despite the copious amount of lore packed into it. [Here's a fic for it.]

Haunted AU [made by Connor] Summary - Two friends move into a new house as roommates, however they aren't alone. Heart: Juno Moon [they/he/she] Mind: Jupiter Storm [he/it] Soul: Grey Spring "Soul" [any pronouns] Whole: Hyde Concord [he/him] --- [Old refs + general information.] [Updated reference sheets.] Might get its own Masterpost depending on the direction we go with it?

Autotheist AU [made by Mind, taken over by Atom himself] Summary - Juno shot at the sun, he shot at the sun and he... didn't miss. Mind is left mentally broken due to his wires frying after the shot and a botched repair, and blames Whole for everything that is wrong with his life. Claiming himself as his own god, Mind sets out for revenge. Heart: Vol [he/they] Mind: Atom [he/it/she] Soul: Effigy [he/it] Whole: Idol [he/him] --- We also don't post much about this one. [Here's Atom's reference sheet, and a link to his AF page with more info and refs.]

Deal with the Devil / Swap AU [made by Connor?] Summary - During an argument, Mind and Heart make a deal to swap roles to try to prove something to the other. They didn't realise that Soul and Whole would be caught in the crossfire, or that all their memories would be damaged. Heart: Mind / Onis [they/he/it] Mind: Heart / Tali [she/he/it] Soul: Whole / Void [it/its] Whole: Soul / Prism [he/him] --- [Initial post.]

Siren AU [made by Connor] Summary - They are fish. Mostly. Maybe one of them is a decoy made to lure actual sirens to the government for experimentation. And maybe that one grew attached and abandoned it's purpose to stay with the group. Heart: no nickname available Mind: no nickname available Soul: no nickname available Whole: no nickname available --- [This is all I have to offer you.]

Mirror AU [made by Heart] Summary - [WIP] Two worlds live on the edge of each other, occasionally visible through mirrors. But what happens when you and your reflection self can't stop seeing each other? Someone needs to fix it. Heart: Cast [they/he/she] Mind: Echo [he/it/she] Soul: Shard [it/she/he] --- [Echo's ref.] Unnamed train murder mustery AU [made by Edagr] Summary - Heaviest WIP ever, Edgar needs to come back to finish it soon.

Mechanical Dissonance AU [made alongside H3xalios (Mind)] Summary - Mind is killed and revived as a robot. He isn't happy. Heart: Artemis / Project 002 / JUN0 Mind: Apollo / Project 001 / 4POLLO / JUP1TER [it/he/code] Soul: Atlas / CODENAME:SOUL --- [Designs, not refs.]

Kill Your Double AU [made by Connor] Summary - The world ends, and from the rubble emerge "Copies" of the survivors which set out to kill their "Bases". It's cold and snowing almost always. Heart: Judas Acoustic Jash [he/they/she] "Heart 2": Copy!Judas / Copycat [it/he] Mind: Jericho Electric Jash [any pronouns] "Mind 2": Copy!Jericho / Hazard [any pronouns] Soul: Abel "Soulful" Eclipse [it/he] "Soul 2": Copy!Abel / Cain [it/its] Whole: Job "Sneeb" Calamity [he/him] --- KYD is getting it's own masterpost whenever we start on the comic. For now, [here's the lineup.]

Lost Your Soul AU [made alongside Bluescreem (Mind)] Summary - Soul had always had a fascination with the forest around the trio's house, despite its dangers. This is something that had always concerned the other two, especially when they'd find it trying to enter the forest. One night, no one had been there to stop it. Now Heart and Mind have to save their Soul before something bad happens to it, or them. Heart: no nickname available [they/he] Mind: no nickname available [he/any] Soul: no nickname available [it/soul] Whole: I don't even know if he exists here, I'll ask Bluescreen later --- [The fic.] [Chapter 1+2 propaganda.] [Chapter 3 propaganda.]

#souls nonsense #chonny jash #cccc #cj heart #cj mind #cj soul #cj whole #darrell is in some of these #ds au #cj chess au #cj haunted au #autotheist au #deal with the devil au #hmsw siren au #hms mirror au #mechanical dissonance au #kill your double au #lost your soul au

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fairyysoup · 9 months ago

Text

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You��ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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ellecdc · 1 month ago

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He Shoots & He Scores

hockey player!James Potter x team medic!reader who finds a diagnosis for James [1.9k words]

a/n: a little imagining from a while back with the queen of au's @maladaptiveescapism [who's going to be abandoning (kidding/affectionate) me soon to write her own fics 😭😭]

CW: fem!reader, swearing/cursing, James worried about making work weird for everyone, Remus being a little shit

James rapped his knuckles twice against the door to your office before gently pushing the door open, his smile faltering when he spotted Remus leaning his hip against your desk as he looked over a file in one hand as he took a bite from an apple held in his other.

“This is getting embarrassing, Potts.” Remus offered with a snort as uncrossed his ankles and stood up straight.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” James offered as primly as he could manage as he peered back down the hallway he just entered from in hopes of spotting you.

“No?” Remus taunted. “Something I can help you with then? Or do you need to see the doctor?”

“Fuck off.” James let out, halfway between a laugh and a moan as he shoved at Remus’ arm playfully.

“Why don’t you just tell her you have a crush on her and get it over with?” Remus asked as he returned to perch on the desk and mirrored James’ posture as they both waited for you to return - though Remus was gracious enough not to comment (a second time) on the fact that he knew James to be doing just that.

“Because she’s my doctor.”

“She’s the team’s doctor.” Remus corrected as he took another bite of his apple. “And I believe her proper title is medic if you wanted to get into the nitty gritty.”

“But isn’t that weird? To be crushing on your team medic?”

“Oh it absolutely is.” Remus agreed readily, causing James to groan miserably.

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He muttered.

“Well all this pining and finding bad excuses to spend time with her is making me uncomfortable. Ever think about that?”

“I swear to fucking god, Lupin, nothing works around here except for us.” They heard you mutter before either of them could continue in their conversation; James standing quickly at attention and Remus snorting at his expense.

“Oh shit, sorry captain.” You offered James with a smirk that was equal parts teasing and bashful as you looked up at him briefly from the tablet in your hands. “I know you players aren’t used to hearing such profanity.”

James let out a quick bark of nervous laughter that startled even himself before turning to look at Remus with an expression that he hoped screamed ‘holy fucking shit help me’.

“Please,” Remus cut in, answering James’ prayers, “did you hear that string Black came up with last game?”

You snorted as you tapped a few more times at the iPad that was apparently causing you issues. “What was it again? Uhm, ‘son of a fucking cocksucking bitch ass hoe bag’?”

“I want that written on my headstone.” Remus responded solemnly as he binned the core of his apple, earning him a hum of acknowledgement from you.

“Alright, Potter?” You asked with your face still pointed at the tablet.

“Hm?” He asked dumbly, gaining your gaze as you looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Are you alright? Or did you need something?”

“Oh! I- Uhm, actually yeah no I needed to see you about something.” He offered awkwardly, and you finally seemed to lose all interest in the faulty tablet in your hands.

“Why? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?” You rapid-fired, (beautiful) eyes darting over his form as you scoured his frame for any signs of ailment or injury.

“Oh, well, no I mean, I mean I’m fine, but-”

“You’re fine?”

“Not fine, fine, but like, not… bad?”

Remus actually looked pained on James' behalf - pained and also a little smug, and perhaps there was a side of mischief there in his amber eyes too. “Bad enough to see the doc, though.” He offered with faux sympathy; his lip jutting out in a theatric pout.

James tried to scowl at him when he felt a gentle, cold finger dig into the flesh beneath his jaw bone. You used your thumb to tilt his face towards you and James felt like the air was being forced from his lungs as he now had you standing so close to him, brows furrowed in concern as you scanned his face. James sort of wanted to smooth out the divot between your brows with the pad of his thumb and kiss the displeased downturn of your lips with his own - but he refrained, because that would be weird.

“Did you hit your head during practice?” You asked seriously, startling when Remus let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter from behind you.

He tried to play off his laugh as a cough when you turned to give him an incredulous look, but he continued staring at James with mirth in his eyes as you turned your attention back to James.

“I’ll leave him in your very capable hands, doc.”

“Lupin!” James hissed as Remus backed out of the office.

“Sorry Potts! I’m just a PT!” He called back from further down the hall, and James hoped to the hockey gods you couldn’t hear his snickering as you held your finger up in front of James.

“Look here, Potter.”

James allowed himself the pleasure of staring uninhibitedly into your eyes as he leaned back against your desk so that the two of you were closer in height; your finger still tracking his pulse and his jaw still trapped in your grasp.

“My finger, Potter.” You corrected with the hint of an upturn in your lips as you wiggled the finger he was supposed to be tracking to prove to you he didn’t have a concussion.

“Sorry doc,” he started as he followed instructions, feeling emboldened by the humour in your eyes, “the view was just too good, I couldn’t help myself.”

You bit your bottom lip as you smiled and shook your head at him fondly, though you continued watching his eyes as he watched your finger. “You’re such a flirt. I’m gonna flash a light.” You warned as your finger disappeared along with the rest of your hand into your team scrubs pocket and pulled out a small flashlight before shining it in his eyes. James’ gaze remained steadfast on you.

“Alright. I didn’t think I saw you hit your head, and you’re showing no physical signs of a concussion, so what the hell are you doing in my office?” You declared with a breath - whether it was a tired sigh or a breath of relief, James didn’t know - as you moved to the other side of your desk and took a seat.

There were two perfectly fine seats on the other side of your desk, but space wasn’t what James was after when he went in search of you, so he followed you around to your side of the desk and perched himself on the edge so that he was facing you instead. “I’m not allowed to come chat with the team medic?”

You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t deign to answer; you had one leg crossed over the other and you used the foot still on the ground to swivel your desk chair back and forth as you continued to stare at him sceptically.

“Do I look good out there?” James asked quietly then - just for something to say, just to keep the conversation going. Hockey was safe, hockey was familiar; the two of you could talk about hockey, right?

“Yes…” you started cautiously, still looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “But you know that. And Remus could’ve told you the same.”

“He could have, but would Remus have told me the same?” James asked sceptically in return, earning him a snort of laughter from you.

“No, he would have bullied you first. Would you like me to try again?”

“No,” James moaned, “that’s why I came to you.”

“Why did you come to me?” You asked him again, quietly this time. Something about the way you were looking at him made him feel cut open and raw and vulnerable; you were suspicious, rightfully so, and so very much onto him.

James shrugged and looked at the wall of books set up behind your desk - anatomy, kinesiology and sports medicine textbooks that you and Remus had collected over your educations and careers sitting on standby as resources should either of you need them. You never did though, James found. The two of you brilliant and confident, knowledgeable and assured enough to ask the other for feedback or input when you second guessed yourselves. You worked well together - you and Remus - James realised then. A team; much in the same way that the Lion’s were. He was lucky to have you on his team; they all were.

“I like spending time with you.” James admitted then, still not looking over at you, though he couldn’t help but notice when you stopped swivelling back and forth in your chair.

“So…you feigned a concussion in order to be alone with me?” You nearly whispered then, and all of James’ fears had come true. He’d made you uncomfortable, he’d freaked you out, pushed you away. You’d leave the team, or, or maybe you wouldn’t leave the team, but you’d certainly hand over James’ care to one of the leagues other medics.

James screwed his eyes shut before turning to face you, ready to apologise and beg and vow to repent for his sins when he saw you with one hand covering your mouth and your eyes full of ill hidden humour.

You were fucking with him.

“I did not feign a concussion!” He barked back at you - though his voice was breathy with relief. “You assumed!”

You pulled your hand away from your mouth to display a wide smile as you pointed back at him in an accusatory manner. “You came in here acting like someone with a concussion!”

“I came in here acting like someone with a crush.” James both corrected and admitted; in for a penny, in for a pound and whatnot.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you brought your hand back to your lips and continued swivelling in your chair. “My medical books never taught me to look for symptoms of a crush.”

“Those are terrible textbooks then.” James added solemnly. “You should probably get your money back.”

“Probably.”

“They should take your licence away too.” He accused as he stood, and your mouth fell open in shock and offence.

“James!” You chided, and James fought the urge to shiver at the way his given name sounded coming from your lips.

“What kind of doctor doesn’t know how to diagnose a crush?” He scoffed.

“Get the fuck out of my office.” You laughed, and James turned to wink at you and offer you a salute.

“Doctors orders.” He said before slipping out of your office.

He poked his head back in to see you still smiling towards the door like you’d been looking after him.

“But... maybe I could message you later? You know…about that diagnosis?”

You stopped swivelling in your chair as you smiled at him - more softly this time. “Sure, James.”

James returned the smile and tapped twice on your doorframe. “Goodnight, doc.”

“Night, cap.” You murmured in return, and James waited until he was outside in the team parking lot before pumping his fist and letting out celebratory holler.

Unbeknownst to James, Remus started his own car only after James had gotten into his, shaking his head fondly and muttering something that sounded an awful lot like ‘fucking finally’ as he pulled away from the Lion’s arena.

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bangtanintotheroom · 5 months ago

Text

On the Nose (M)

I'ma put this pussy on your face

Open up boy, come and get a taste

🔊 just wanna - iggy azalea (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: Dokyeom x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Humor, Smut, Friends to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 2.5k

• Summary: Seokmin thinks his nose might be too big. You’re quick to give him reasons as to why he’s wrong.

• Warnings/themes: insecurity, reassurance, OC with the compliments 🥹, Seokmin getting carried away, face-sitting, oral (f. receiving), groping, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

• Notes: Look, all I'm going to say is that my thing for noses flares up whenever I look at DK and that was the inspo for this drabble. So sit and enjoy AJ's unhinged mind 🤪✨ thanks again to @wooahaeproductions for being an awesome beta! 💖

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you’re interested in all future fics I post!

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is my nose too big?”

Your friend’s out of nowhere question made you pause your mobile game and look up in bewilderment. You found him standing in front of his dresser, head leaned in close to the mirror.

“What? No, it’s not.”

Seokmin hummed, the tone unconvinced.

“Are you sure? You can be honest with me, y’know.”

Frowning deeply, you set your phone down and rose from the bed to walk over and stand next to him.

“Seokmin, why would I lie? Your nose is fine. Did someone say something about it?”

“No…”

His trailing off did not deter you from digging deeper.

“Seokmin.”

Your biting tone and hard stare made him flinch, not wanting to feel your wrath.

“No one said anything, per se, but they were looking. Really hard.”

“Who?”

Seokmin’s reflection shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Multiple people. We’d be having a conversation and I’d just notice their eyes going to my nose at some point.”

His explanation gave you some clarity now, but were they really thinking negative thoughts about it? You couldn’t understand why the poor guy was so concerned about his nose all of a sudden. To you, it was one of his best features.

Yes, he had a blinding smile. Yes, you would kill to have his cheekbones. Yes, he was just a handsome guy in general.

But having a dignified and regal nose increased his looks by at least fifty percent (if you were being modest).

It just suited him so well that you couldn’t picture him with anything more basic or minuscule. Anything less pointy and upright would not fit Lee Seokmin.

“Seokmin, maybe they were looking because they like it.”

Your friend turned away from the mirror to study you with interest.

“You think so?”

You gazed up at him confidently.

“I know so.”

“But don’t people usually prefer smaller noses?”

A scoff left before you explained, “Fuck what beauty standards say, I think big noses are one of the best things anyone could have. Think about it. When people get plastic surgery, they can only go smaller, not bigger, right?”

”Right…”

“So it’s something that’s natural and only special people are blessed with! Like yourself!”

Your reassurance was paired with a tap to said special feature, pulling a bright grin from Seokmin.

“Y/N, you know just how to cheer me up, don’t you?”

“Of course, dummy. That’s what friends are for!”

The both of you giggled, the atmosphere lighter than before due to your affirmations. It felt good to ease his worries, but as you laughed, one last fact came to your brain.

It wasn’t as innocent as the previous ones, but it was a truth for you. One you had personal experience with on more than one occasion.

“Seokmin.”

“Hm?”

“You know what else big noses are really good for?”

Seokmin’s dark brown eyes watched you with curiosity and a hint of eagerness.

“What?”

You looked up at him, face blank like a sheet of paper.

“Sitting on.”

He became a cartoon character immediately, eyes bugging and mouth flying open to let out a yelp while his hands covered his ears.

“Y/N! What?!”

“Hey—” You reached up to rip his palms down so he could hear properly. “—it’s true!”

“Is it, you…you…pervert? Or are you just making things up to make me feel better?!”

A scowl came across your face as you lightly punched his arm.

“I’m serious, idiot! Have you never heard of a girl using someone’s nose to get off?”

“No! Well, I mean, maybe, but I wasn’t paying attention if anyone did say that.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and readied yourself to continue convincing him.

“It’s true, okay?”

Seokmin blinked before squinting his eyes.

“And who’s your source?”

You met him with nothing but passiveness.

“Me, myself and I.”

All he could do was gape at you like a fish, stunned that you were revealing such an intimate secret about yourself.

Now, you were used to Seokmin’s dramatic reactions to mundane or extreme situations, but he usually did it out of fun. Yet something about the way his eyes darted all over your face told you that it was genuine astonishment he gave.

Which led to you challenging, “What, you’ve never had anyone sit on your face before?”

“No!”

Huh. Shocker.

“Really?”

His frantic nod only made your brows raise in wonder. It was a shame that this man had never been privy to the act. God strategically placed his nose at such an angle to reach crevices deep within women and it was being wasted for everything else but that.

An idea began brewing in you, wanting to convince him that he was missing out on something fun.

Licking your lips, you cocked your head to the side and let your suggestion out.

“Wanna try?”

Seokmin became too stunned to speak. All he could do was sputter at your offer.

“I— Y/N, you—!”

“Seokmin, I’m serious. It’s an experience.”

The way you grinned slyly was akin to suggesting your friend cut class with you, not let you use his face as a grinding pad.

“How am I going to convince you if you won’t let me sit on your face?”

Seokmin’s ajar mouth finally shut, jaw clenched as he looked you over from head to toe, gauging the seriousness of your offer. He saw little deceit and seemed to relax a bit.

“Y/N…would you really do that?”

You nodded.

“If it’ll make you feel better about your nose, absolutely. You’re welcome to say no if you don’t want to, though.”

The other pulled in his lower lip as he mulled over his answer. You were middle of the road right now. If he said no, you would take no offense and carry on like nothing happened. But if he said yes…

“Then…let’s try it.”

Oh. Neat!

Smiling in triumph, you held your arm out towards the bed.

“Go get comfortable.”

Seokmin’s lips quirked lightly at your instructions, walking over to lie on his back in the middle of the mattress. His head lifted to peer at you with query.

“Is this a good position?”

“Perfect. You’re a beginner, so it’s best if you stay completely flat.”

Humming at your reasoning, his eyes widened when your hands reached for your bottoms, undoing them as if you were undressing at the end of a long day. You saw him visibly swallow when your pants pooled around your ankles. But then he clutched the sheets when your fingers crept under the elastic of your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Seokmin tried his best to look less petrified as you looked up after stepping out of your clothes and walked over. Climbing onto the bed, you kneeled next to his torso, raising a brow down at him.

“Ready for me?”

An audible gulp came from your friend before he nodded quickly. With a sigh, you eased, “I’m not gonna suffocate you. Relax.”

The reminder seemed to lessen his nerves as he laid back again, giving you a jerk of his chin. The invitation prompted you to straddle his chest and keep an eye on his facial expression, only to catch him staring between your legs.

“What?”

Seokmin’s cheeks reddened before he shook his head quickly. “N-Nothing. So how does this go?”

“Literally just eat me out like you would with any other girl. But throw your nose into the mix.”

“Like, nudge you with it?”

“Mhm. Just follow your instincts, there’s not much wrong you can do with it.”

The man underneath you nodded before taking in a deep breath. As soon as he motioned you to scoot up with his eyes, you moved forward to hover over his lips. Trusting your core to keep you balanced, you let out your own held breath.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Seokmin gave a thumbs up, waiting until you lowered down so your folds were a whisper away from his mouth. He leaned up to brush his lips against them, the light touch making your spine straighten. It felt as if he was testing the waters, wanting to see just how sensitive you were. But he didn’t wait long to up the pressure, pulling the quietest of gasps out.

“Better?”

You would’ve giggled at the way his voice came out somewhat muffled if it wasn’t for the warmth starting to build in your gut.

“Yeah. Just do what you usually do, ‘Min.”

“Let me know if I have to switch it up.”

He returned to work, bringing his tongue into the mix to trace up and down. A louder noise came from your mouth at the thorough sensation, eyes fluttering. The question of whether Lee Seokmin was good at oral never crossed your mind, but now the answer was going to remain cemented in there.

Especially when the appendage sunk in between to run up and down your entrance.

“Oh shit—”

You were too distracted to see Seokmin’s eyes crinkle at your low moan, continuing the action to be rewarded with more. But after a while of this, you remembered the main reason why this was even happening in the first place. Swallowing a sound, you croaked out, “Seokmin.”

“Mm?”

“Your nose—”

The reminder had him make what you imagined was a noise of realization. And just like you wanted, the end of something soft yet sharp nudged your swollen clit.

“Ah— There you go.”

You gave encouragement, hoping it would push your friend to use his God-given gift to the fullest. It took some time, but Seokmin nuzzled the bud harder while simultaneously working his tongue below. Your warmth expanded into a tingling heat that traveled up and down your spine and into your fingers and toes, soft pants beginning to fall from your agape mouth.

You weren’t sure how long he had been at it, but you began to feel the telltale signs of a climax approaching. Not wanting to throw him off his game, you bit your tongue and allowed yourself to continue enjoying this experience of Seokmin learning the benefits of having a perfectly sculpted nose.

As the throes of ecstasy began to wash over your body, you hoped that he would carry this lesson through the rest of his life to treat any lucky girl.

Panting softly as you came down, the attention between your legs paused for a bit. But just as you were about to climb off and congratulate your friend for a job well done, the motions started up again, forcing you to gasp in sensitivity.

“’Min, what are you—”

A harsh bump to your still throbbing clit interrupted your query and a poke to your twitching cunt silenced you completely. All you could do was sit above Seokmin in utter shock as he continued to please you with his mouth.

Your complete surprise melted the further he went, brain shutting down to simply enjoy what he was giving you. At one point, you felt vibrations and started to hear something akin to mumbling from between your legs.

“Huh?”

The vibrations went on, but you still couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Seokmin, I can’t hear you, stop for a second.”

What might have been a groan sounded against your slick folds before Seokmin pulled back to husk out, “Sit on my tongue.”

Your mouth dropped, stunned at the request and the way he stuck out said muscle between his slick-coated lips.

But your hips went on autopilot and moved forward to grant him his wish. As soon as you sat down, the desire to use his tongue as a grinding pad came over. It seemed to be a wise choice as you could feel the strongest vibration so far against your pussy.

Seokmin surprised you again when one of his hands moved from the bed to rest on your waist before sliding over and up your torso. It seemed to be on autopilot as it aimed to touch your covered breast, only stopping short just as his fingertips were about to brush the bottom curve. Clicking your tongue at his unwanted hesitation, you covered his palm with your own and brought it to its intended destination.

“Don’t hold back.”

As soon as you let go, Seokmin took your command and ran to the bank with it. Long fingers groped and massaged at the mound, making your back arch in enjoyment. Enjoyment that pushed you higher and higher to another precipice, faster than before. While you trembled above your friend, you couldn’t believe that he kept this up. You figured that once would be enough to prove your point, but he just would not stop.

He continued even after you came for the second time, giving everything he had. You could feel yourself hurtling towards a third orgasm as Seokmin wouldn’t let you be. But when the tip of his nose felt too pointy and the flat of his tongue too rough for your sensitive folds, you decided to put an end to the experience.

“S-Stop—“

Pointless. He just kept going.

Stifling a whimper of discomfort, you were forced to reach down and pull at his dark brown locks.

“Christ, Seokmin, stop!”

Finally, your prayers were heard. Seokmin winced at your tug and removed his mouth from you to gape incredulously.

“Yah, why’d you stop me?”

You ignored the unusually titillating rasp of his voice to scowl down.

“I think you proved my point…too many times!”

Your emphasis was supported with a flick to his wet nose.

“You trying to kill me?!”

“No! I just got caught up in the moment! I’m sorry.”

The genuine remorse in his explanation made you relax a bit, soothing his scalp with a gentle ruffle of his hair.

“It’s alright, ‘Min. You did good…too good.”

As expected, Seokmin’s smile outshone the sun itself, thanks to your praise.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Returning the grin, you realized that you should give your friend some breathing room and climbed off to lay next to him, a tingle still present in your toes.

“So what have we learned today?”

Seokmin puckered his lips as he looked up in thought.

“I learned that my nose is big, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Um…that I can use it when I’m eating someone out.”

Your lips tilted.

“Go on.”

A melodic hum came as he continued to rack his brain.

“Mm…oh! How could I forget the most important one?”

You watched as his head turned to fixate you with a sweet grin.

“If I’m ever feeling insecure about anything, I can come to you for help.”

His answer made you smile wide, heart warming at how at ease he seemed to be now. Granted, you never expected to sit on his face, but if it made him feel better, you’d do it a hundred times over.

“Anything for you, ‘Min.”

817 notes · View notes

ningvory · 4 months ago

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BACKSTAGE FUN! ˒˒ uchinaga aeri

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ word count: 1.1k

CW: 5th member au, backshots, gp aeri, degrading, ass slapping, exhibitionism, aeri’s a perv and reader’s lowk a ditz, creampie, not proofread but when is it ever🤷🏽‍♀️

aeri could barely hold herself together when she seen the dress your stylist had put you in. the black dress had complimented your curves and your skin perfectly, so how could her dick not rise up into a raging boner?

she was lucky that her stylist had given her a dress as well, she wasn’t sure how she was gonna hide her boner from the crowd of people, and most importantly, you.

“girls, on stage in 5.” a staff member said, snapping the japanese girl out of her thoughts. she quickly pushed herself on her feet to begin walking with the rest of the group.

within minutes you all were on the stage performing smoothly. besides aeri, she struggled to keep her composure and to not drag you backstage and have her way with you.

she couldn’t take her eyes off of you and your body, especially your ass. she knew she was making the situation worse for herself but the way your tits bounced, the way your hips swayed, and the way your ass occasionally jiggled from certain movements in the numerous of choreographies you all did had her mouth salivating and her cock straining against her clothes.

she had to continue on performing with her raging boner that was most likely covered in her precum for what seemed like forever. she was thankful that this was the last song to perform before it was time to go backstage and change into the outfits for the solo performances.

aeri knew she couldn’t take her time like how she wanted because soon, it would be time for you to perform your solo. she had just came back from performing dopamine, and it was time for minjeong’s solo.

once she came backstage after performing, she saw you sitting in the makeup chair scrolling on whatever social media app with your pink outfit with makeup that made you look like a doll. it just made her want to ruin you even more.

though there was no staff around in the makeup room, it was still too risky and she knew that your session would be ruined in the blink of an eye. so luckily, she thought of a plan.

she walked over to you and snatched your phone out your hands before placing it down on the counter where all the makeup was before quickly grabbing your wrist.

“aeri? what are you doing? i’ll be on in a few minutes!” you yelled in a whisper tone to not gain any attention from any nearby staff or the other members. her pace was so quick she was basically dragging you along, not caring if you couldn’t keep up with her.

you two eventually made it to the bathrooms, and just as she thought, there was no one in sight. she pinned you to the bathroom wall.

“aeri? just aeri? y/n, where are your manners, hm?” she questioned, face getting dangerously close to yours with eyes that were staring you down filled with nothing but lust.

“aeri—unnie, not here! it’s too risky! i go on in any minute!” you protested against her, trying to pry her off of you but you knew that was damn near impossible.

“you know you love the risk of getting caught. don’t act like you’re not a slut who gets off on this.” she taunts, “now be a good girl and stop complaining.” she adds on, manhandling your body to where you were in front of the sink, directly infront of the mirror to see everything she was doing.

she pushed your forward so you upper body was leaning on the sink, giving her better access to slide down your shorts and your panties before discarding hers as well.

she let out a groan when her grithy cock slapped right against her tummy. she wasted no time before she pushed herself into your warm cunt.

she had you just where she liked, your ass on full display for her and for her to slap. her hands gripped your hips tightly as she pounded into your cunt like it was the last time she was going to do so.

aeri moaned at the feeling of your tight cunt swallowing her cock up like it was made just for her, but your holes, quite literally were. you always let her have her fun with your pretty body whenever she wanted to.

she leaned forward, tits pressed into your back and with the newfound angle, she hit your sweet spot almost instantly, causing you to bite your lip, concealing the moan.

“imagine the fans' faces if they knew your were taking this dick like a whore,” she whispers into your ear, watching the way you desperately try to conceal your moans, “i-i’m not a whore.” you try to protest but your body seems to have a mind of it’s own.

“oh really? then why’s your ass pushing back against me, hm?” she laughs in disbelief, slapping your ass. your brain was turning to mush and you stopped trying to conceal your moans. aeri’s quick to shove her long fingers into you moth. throat fucking you and causing you to gag on them.

“y/n!! you’re on in a minute!” minjeong yells, and aeri can’t help but giggle as you whimper around her 2 fingers before thick spurts fill your pussy to the brim.

she pulls her cum covered cock out before you could even cum yourself, you can’t help but whine but aeri could care less, too fixated on her cum spilling outta your pussy. she gets on her knees, admiring the mess she made before giving your cunt a small kiss.

“don’t want my seed leaking everywhere,” she sighs, scooping up the cum the that spilled out before pushing it back in. you squeal when she pushed a plug into your cunt, making sure her cum doesn’t leak out of your messy cunny. she pulls your panties and shorts back up back up, pulling a choked out moan from you, feeling your shorts push the plug even further in your cunt.

she turns you to where you’re facing her, fixing your outfit and hair, she gives you a kiss and a wink before sending you off, “good luck sweetheart.”

once you were on stage, she went to go watch you perform along with jimin. she loved the way you tried your best to not moan and let the pleasure show whenever the plug hit a certain angle in your pussy. she smirks when she can see your tummy bulge during some of the moves, her cock rising once again. you know as soon as you make it to the hotel room she’s gonna really have her fun.

#♡.giselle #♡.aespa #g!p #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #kpop smut #wlw smut #aespa giselle smut #giselle x fem reader #giselle smut

719 notes · View notes

edenesth · 4 months ago

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TWTHH Spinoff: Until I Found You [1]

Pairing: prince!Yeosang x princess!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: It had been a while since Lady Park's firm rejection, and the fourth prince was beginning to believe he would never get over her. Though the heartbreak had made him more mature, one thing remained unchanged: his stubborn reluctance to marry. Convinced he would never find someone who could understand his pain as deeply as the general's wife, he was unprepared for the surprise life had in store for him—one that came in the form of a foreign princess.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"A peace treaty with Joseon? What do you think Father is going to offer them?" you wondered aloud, staring at your reflection in the ornate gold mirror as your mother gently combed your hair.

She sighed, her face filled with dread. "What else do you think, my dear? Another daughter, obviously. Lord have mercy on whichever poor soul has to be sacrificed."

Your fists clenched involuntarily, clutching the fabric of your robes at the thought. You couldn't imagine the horror: what if it was you? To be torn from your family, everyone you loved, everything you knew, and sent off to a foreign land to marry a complete stranger and live the rest of your life in isolation. "Mother, this is cruelty."

"This is reality, sweetheart."

You winced at her words. She was right, and you hated it. The mere thought of being separated from your mother, Royal Concubine Sarisu of Ruhon, was beyond unbearable. You were all she had, and she was everything to you.

Reaching for her hands, you squeezed them and smiled sadly up at her. Once, she had been the most favoured concubine, steadily climbing the ranks, poised to take the spot beside the then-empty throne. But then the current Her Majesty arrived. With her strong family ties and influential background, she immediately stole away all your mother's chances of ever becoming Queen.

But that wasn't all she stole.

She took everything, including all your father's affections, leaving him with no room for your mother or you. Since then, the two of you had been reduced to mere decorations in the grand palace of Ruhon, often labelled the rejects of His Majesty. You were invisible to him, merely waiting for the end of your days to come.

Neither of you were fools; you knew what people said about you both. But it didn't matter. You were grateful not to be starving on the streets and to still have a roof over your heads, even if it was nowhere near as luxurious as the Queen and her children's chambers. No matter how much favour your mother had lost, at least the King was still kind enough to let you both keep your titles and everything else.

Or was he really?

Perhaps you shouldn't have spoken about it. Now, you had jinxed it. You should have known, should have realised why he had kept you around. You had your own uses and were finally coming in handy now. The realisation struck when a eunuch rushed into your chambers, which was an unusual occurrence, bowing lightly—nothing like the deep bows usually reserved for other royals.

"Princess Sarisu, you have been summoned by His Majesty the King and are expected in the throne room this instant," he announced, gesturing towards the exit. "Please allow me to escort you there."

He let out a small, impatient huff when you remained frozen in your spot, exchanging horrified looks with your mother. "Come now, Your Highness. We mustn't upset His Majesty any further."

She cleared her throat, nodding encouragingly despite her trembling hands. "Go on, my dear. I'm sure it's nothing, hm? Maybe your father simply wishes to catch up." Not wanting her to worry, you forced a smile. "Yes, Mother. You're probably right."

You weren't sure who you were trying to convince with those foolish white lies, but a part of you clung to the hope that was all it was. With that, you followed the eunuch towards the throne room.

The palace corridors seemed colder, the shadows darker, as you walked. Each step echoed ominously, amplifying the anxiety churning in your stomach. You could feel the eyes of courtiers and servants on you, their whispers adding to the tension.

Finally, you reached the grand doors of the throne room. They loomed before you, heavy and imposing. The eunuch pushed them open, revealing the vast chamber within. At the far end, on the elevated throne, sat your father, the King. His expression was stern, his gaze piercing as it settled on you.

"Approach," he commanded, his voice resonating through the hall.

You walked forward, your heart pounding in your chest. As you neared the throne, you dropped to your knees, bowing deeply. "This princess greets Your Majesty," you greeted, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain composed.

Your father studied you for a moment before speaking, "I hope you have been well, princess. I will not bother beating around the bush; you are at the perfect age for marriage, and it is time you fulfil your duty. The peace treaty with Joseon has been finalised. It has been decided that you are to be sent as part of the agreement. We leave in a week to celebrate your future union with Ninth Prince Yeochan."

The words struck you like a blow. Your worst fears had come true. You were to be sacrificed for the sake of the kingdom, sent away to a foreign land to marry a stranger. Your mind raced, struggling to process the reality of your fate.

Oh god, it's really happening... to me.

"Father, please..." you began, but he raised a hand, silencing you.

"Look at me, princess. This is not a question, it's an order," he commanded, his gaze steely and unyielding despite your tear-filled eyes. You were bewildered; you were merely the daughter of a concubine. It was usually only princesses born from the Queen who had to marry for the nation's sake.

"But Father—" you fell to your knees, prepared to beg for mercy.

He snarled, "No buts! Your sisters are too young for this. Her Majesty and I have deliberated long and hard. You're the only one fit for the task. You'll do well to make your mother proud. I know you're upset about leaving her behind, but you're a princess, and you know what that means. Your sacrifice will save Ruhon…"

Yes, from your reckless decisions.

If only he hadn't rashly launched a sudden attack on Joseon, none of this would have happened. Peace would have prevailed, and you wouldn't have to be offered as a pawn in the war he instigated. You weren't stupid; he was giving you up because this was a deal with the enemy. The Queen's daughters were too precious to be sent away.

"Oh, come now, my daughter. Just be grateful you aren't marrying the dreadful fourth prince of Joseon. I'm sure their ruler still has some conscience. You'll be fine."

Easy for you to say, Father...

One week. That was all the time you were given to come to terms with your fate—to be the chosen pawn sent to Joseon, to spend these final days with your mother before departing forever. Reality wasn't cruel; your father was. You had never harboured such profound hatred for him as you did now. Oh, your poor mother. How would she endure the emptiness of the palace alone? Your heart ached with the mere thought of her grieving in the cold confines of your shared chambers, her life overshadowed by your absence.

Though you faced a grim future, perhaps far worse than hers, all you could think about was the one person who meant everything to you—the one who had brought you into this world, nurtured you, protected you, and showered you with endless love. And now, you were leaving her behind forever.

The days blurred together in a haze of sorrow and apprehension. You clung to your mother, finding solace in shared memories and whispered reassurances. The palace, once your sanctuary, now felt like a gaol, each room a reminder of the departure that loomed ahead.

On the final night, she held you tightly, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "You are strong, my dear. Remember that. No matter what happens, hold on to who you are. Go and make us all proud."

You nodded, tears mingling with hers. "I will, Mother. I promise. Don't worry about me and take good care of yourself."

The next morning arrived far too soon. As you prepared to leave, you took a last, lingering look around your chamber, memorising every detail. Then, with a heavy heart, you followed the royal guard sent to escort you. Walking through the palace corridors for the final time, the weight of your destiny pressed heavily upon you.

At last, you reached the courtyard where the grand carriage awaited. Your father stood beside it, his face a mask of indifference. He offered no words as you approached, only a curt nod. "Come, let us go."

With one final, sorrowful glance at your mother, you climbed into the carriage. As it began to move, you watched her silhouette grow smaller and smaller until she was nothing more than a distant memory.

Thus, you set off towards an uncertain future, your heart heavy with grief and dread, knowing you were leaving behind everything you had ever known and loved.

Goodbye, Ruhon... goodbye, Mother.

"Your Highness, how should we announce you at the banquet?" the King of Joseon asked, smiling warmly down at you.

Your father straightened up proudly beside you, about to answer on your behalf, but you quickly bowed. "Please announce me as Princess Sarisu, Your Majesty, as I have always been known in Ruhon."

The Joseon ruler's eyes widened slightly at the realisation. "Ah, so this is the famous Royal Concubine Sarisu's only daughter. That explains your exceptional beauty. And here, we assumed a princess from Her Majesty of Ruhon would be offered to us." It was a subtle jab at your father, who had thought he could deceive the court by presenting you as a Crown Princess.

Your father's smile was steely, masking the fury that boiled inside him. He trembled with anger at your betrayal—exposing your true identity by using your mother's name, despite his stern reminder that you were to pose as one of the Queen's daughters.

Call it your little revenge if you will.

"No matter, Father. I consider myself fortunate to be matched with such a beauty. After all, I, too, am a son of a concubine. We are quite the match," said Prince Yeochan, your betrothed, as he bowed respectfully to his father and yours. His words might charm most, but you doubted their sincerity. Living in a palace, you had seen your share of false pleasantries and performative kindness.

The King of Joseon nodded approvingly. "As you should be, Ninth Prince. I expect you to treat your future wife well. Now let us adults discuss the wedding plans. You may show your fiancée to her temporary quarters."

"Yes, Father," the young prince responded, then approached you, offering his arm. "Come, my princess."

Despite the grandeur of your reception, it was clear that the welcome was more for show than genuine warmth. This became evident when you arrived at your assigned quarters, a small and secluded part of the palace, far from the bustling main areas where the rest of the royal family and court members congregated.

"Thank you, Your Highness, for showing me here," you said politely.

At that moment, the facade of the dutiful son vanished. Yeochan smirked humourlessly. "Save it. It doesn't matter if you're the daughter of a concubine or the Queen; you're still Ruhon scum to me. Don't think that just because you're here showing me your faux politeness, you can fool me. I don't trust you, princess," he spat.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. There it was, his true nature revealed. Not that you hadn't anticipated this. Given the history between your nations, it was inevitable. You were the princess from the country that had dared to attack his own, a symbol of betrayal and defeat, delivered to their doorstep after your father's cowardly surrender. You could have argued, defended yourself, but it was clear there was no point. His hatred was deep-rooted and unwavering.

The ninth prince huffed at your silence. "I'll make this clear: you will do well to cooperate and play the perfect couple with me in public. But do not expect anything when we're alone. You are nothing more than a political pawn in this game. Remember that."

You met his gaze, your own eyes steady and resolute. "I understand, Your Highness. I will fulfil my duty as expected."

He sneered, turning on his heel and leaving you alone in your sparse quarters. As the door closed behind him, the reality of your situation settled over you like a heavy shroud. The grandeur of the palace felt hollow, a gilded cage in which you were now imprisoned.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them back, refusing to succumb to despair. You had to be strong, for your mother, for yourself. No matter how cold and unwelcoming this place was, you would endure. You had no other choice.

I'll be fine, Mother... I'll live.

The rest of the day had been spent wandering aimlessly within your quarters. The thought of dining with your father was unbearable; after the stunt you had pulled earlier, you dreaded to think what he might say or do. So, you remained secluded in your room, staring at the miserable meal the palace maids had brought you.

Their reluctance to serve you had been apparent. A few bolder ones had whispered about you not so discreetly, their words cutting through the fragile composure you were trying to maintain. Feeling the tension and disdain in the air, you had dismissed them, preferring solitude over their barely concealed contempt.

Staring at the plain bowl of rice and a few meagre side dishes, your appetite vanished. You knew enough about Joseon to recognise that this meal was far from a luxury. It was a clear message: you were not welcome here, not valued, not respected.

Heaving a deep sigh, you thought of your poor mother. How was she coping with your absence? Was she as lonely and lost as you felt in this foreign place? The ache of missing her was a constant, gnawing pain, a reminder of everything you had been forced to leave behind.

As night fell, the shadows in your room grew longer, mirroring the gloom that settled over your heart. The palace, with all its splendour, felt like a prison. The heavy silence pressed down on you, amplifying the sense of isolation. You were a stranger in an enemy land, alone and uncertain of the future.

But you knew you had to endure.

For your mother, for your people, and most importantly, for yourself. No matter how bleak the present seemed, you clung to a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, in time, you would find a way to navigate this treacherous path and carve out a place for yourself in this unforgiving world. Until then, all you could do was survive, one day at a time.

You had gone to bed with a heavy heart, fully aware that this was now your reality, and nothing could change it. A part of you was determined to make the best of your situation despite the hostility you faced. Perhaps it was the adrenaline and emotional exhaustion from the day that allowed you to fall asleep without much trouble on your first night in this foreign land.

The following morning, you were awakened by the same group of maids assigned to you. They were there to bathe and dress you, and knowing you had no choice but to comply, you obediently allowed them to do as they pleased. You endured every harsh tug and rough handling without a single complaint as they prepared you for the day.

"Thank you, you may go," you said, dismissing the group of maids as soon as they had finished their task. Sitting in front of the mirror, you took in your new appearance. It was a sobering reminder that you were about to be a princess of Joseon. The foreign hanbok and hairdo, though simpler and less dramatic than Ruhon's style, were beautiful in their own right.

You reached a hand behind to stroke the single gold hairpin tucked into the neat low bun on your head, then moved down to touch the smooth lavender fabric now adorning your body. "Hmm, not bad at all," you murmured to yourself.

Despite the simplicity, there was a quiet elegance to the attire. The colours were soft and soothing, a stark contrast to the vibrant and intricate garments you were accustomed to. You could see yourself getting used to these outfits. This was your new reality, and you were determined to find beauty and strength in it, no matter how challenging the circumstances.

With a deep breath, you rose from your seat and steeled yourself for the day ahead. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you resolved to face whatever came your way with grace and resilience. Knowing that no one, especially not your fiancé, would show you around the palace grounds, you resolved to explore the place on your own. With the banquet scheduled for the next night, you had this day to yourself. What better way to spend it than embarking on a little adventure?

Finally free from the pressure and the sensation of walking on eggshells, you wandered the palace grounds with awe. The buildings and their architecture were new and different, capturing your attention at every turn. You nodded politely at any passing palace staff who, despite their reluctance or displeasure, still greeted you with courtesy. Your attire signified your status, and rules were rules; they couldn't possibly ignore you in broad daylight.

Amid your exploration, you stumbled upon what seemed to be a tranquil cherry blossom garden. Though the flowers were not in bloom, you could imagine how breathtaking this place would be in the right season. You made a mental note to return when the cherry blossoms were in full glory.

Deciding to take a walk inside, you were unprepared for the sight that greeted you. In one of the many pavilions, diligently practising calligraphy, was a figure that resembled a celestial being. The scene was almost ethereal: the serene garden, the elegant strokes of the brush, the calm concentration on the person's face.

Could he be a scholar...?

Your breath caught in your throat. The figure was dressed in simple yet refined garments. The rhythmic movements of the brush were mesmerising, each stroke deliberate and graceful. You couldn't help but feel as though you were intruding upon a sacred moment. But you couldn't turn away as you moved closer, recognising the poem being written.

"Is that Hwaseoljedeungnubu by Shin Sukju?" you asked softly.

At your question, the person's head whipped up. It took him a moment to respond, but he did eventually. "Yes, it is."

You nodded in approval, a small smile on your lips, pleased that he had yet to frown or react negatively as most people had so far. "Nice penmanship, by the way."

He cleared his throat, slightly flustered. "Thank you."

To say that Yeosang was surprised would be the understatement of the century. Only the most highly educated individuals could recognise this series of poems exchanged between Joseon officials and Ming Dynasty envoys. He wouldn't have been surprised if even most low-ranking officials were not well-versed in this.

First of all, you were a woman, and most women, despite being educated, did not study these texts. Secondly, you were clearly not local; your accent gave that away. Were you perhaps a visiting guest here for the banquet celebrating the union with Ruhon?

But above all else, did you... not know who he was? Even if you didn't, most people turned away as soon as they spotted the dreadful red mark beside his left eye, which was not hard to miss.

When you bit your lip earnestly and stepped into the pavilion, asking, "Do you mind if I join you?" The fourth prince furrowed his brows and placed down his brush, lifting his head to look at you properly, giving you a clear view of his birthmark.

"Are you certain, my lady? Why would you want to sit with me?"

You blinked, confused by the question. "I-I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand—"

He sighed, pointing at the mark on his face. "Do you not see this?"

You nodded slowly, still lost. "Yes, and?"

His brows flew up at your nonchalant response, and he took a deep gulp. "What—are you not disgusted?"

You frowned. "That's a strong word, but... am I supposed to be? By what exactly?"

He finally gave in, taking a moment to process the fact that standing before him was someone who did not see anything wrong with him—the second person to do so after Lady Park. He motioned to the seat opposite him. "Please, have a seat."

You smiled gratefully and settled across from him. He waited for you to be seated before beginning his introduction. "I apologise for my unusual questions. I… I'm Yeosang, the Fourth Prince of Joseon."

He held his breath as your eyes widened in realisation, bracing himself for the rejection he was so accustomed to. But it didn't come. Instead, your lips formed a small pout as you observed him. "So, you're the famous Fourth Prince Yeosang… I don't get it."

He chuckled in bewilderment. "What don't you get, my lady?"

"Why do they call you dreadful? I've only been here for a day and a half, met a handful of people, and you're the first and only one to treat me with equal respect. Besides, you're… very attractive. I don't understand why they'd call you—" Your eyes landed on the birthmark. "Ah, so that's why…"

He nodded solemnly, trying not to show how much it affected him. "Yes, all because of this one stupid mark."

You pursed your lips. "Well, if it's worth anything, I think you're beautiful. People can be cruel for no reason. Trust me, I know."

For the first time in forever, the fourth prince broke into a genuine grin. "Thank you, I… I think you're beautiful too."

You grew shy at that, and wanting to break the ice, Yeosang picked up his brush, handing it to you. "Now, you must tell me how you know about Shin Sukju and his poems. Also, which is your favourite?"

For the remainder of the afternoon, he refrained from asking about your identity, and you were grateful for it. You feared he might distance himself if he learned of your betrothal to his brother, and the thought unsettled you. After all, finding a genuine friend was rare and precious, and you wished to cherish this fleeting moment of sincerity. You knew that by the next day, at the banquet, everyone, including Yeosang, would eventually discover who you truly were.

But you pushed that worry from your mind.

Just for now...

Your time together was cut short when the prince had classes to attend and could no longer stay. As he packed up his things and prepared to leave the pavilion, he turned to you. "Will you be at the banquet tomorrow?"

You swallowed and nodded, offering a small smile. "Yes, I'll be there."

His face lit up with a beaming smile. "Great! I’ll see you there, my lady."

You rose from your seat and bowed. "See you, Your Highness."

Once Yeosang had departed, you sank back into your seat, lost in contemplation. So this was the prince your father had told you you were fortunate not to be wed to? Of course, you knew that if you had been matched with him, he might not have been as courteous as he had been today. Before arriving in Joseon, you had heard nothing but unflattering remarks about him. He was rumoured to be a rebellious brat, the least appealing prince among his brothers.

Yet, meeting him in person, you found the reality strikingly different.

Sure, the rebellious reputation might have some truth, but people can change. As for the claim of his being unappealing, you couldn't fathom how a mere birthmark could diminish his allure. In your eyes, Yeosang was extraordinarily handsome, and the mark only seemed to enhance his unique charm.

Could it be that you were developing a small crush on your soon-to-be brother-in-law? Maybe so, but who could blame you? His kindness, coupled with his striking appearance, made it nearly impossible not to feel some affection. Perhaps it was this harmless little infatuation that provided a semblance of comfort and sanity amidst the turmoil of your new life.

You allowed yourself a small, wistful smile. For now, you would hold on to this tender feeling, as it was one of the few bright spots in the otherwise daunting reality you faced.

Heh, a silly little crush wouldn't hurt.

After the royal tutor had left, the fourth prince found himself alone in the library, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he gazed at the parchment before him. Your handwriting, delicate yet confident, adorned the page. He was thoroughly impressed by your breadth of knowledge, especially given that you were a foreigner. You had shared with him your passion for the liberal arts and how you had delved into them in your home library. It was refreshing to meet someone so genuinely curious and non-judgmental. You were a rare find in a world often quick to judge and dismiss.

His anticipation for the banquet grew, eager to continue your intellectual exchange and perhaps learn even more from you. This fleeting joy, however, was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"You seem to be in high spirits, my prince. Could it be because of the banquet? You've heard the news, haven't you?" Royal Secretary Choi's voice interrupted his thoughts. As he looked up, his smile faltered slightly upon meeting the secretary's inquisitive gaze.

"Heard? About what?" Yeosang inquired, his brows knitting together.

"Wait… you haven't? General and Lady Park will be attending. Last time we spoke, you mentioned wanting to see her, didn't you?" San replied, his tone laced with curiosity.

The mention of Lady Park swiftly altered his mood. Thoughts of your newfound friendship evaporated, overshadowed by the grim realisation. Although he had reconciled with the fact that she would never be his, the prospect of seeing her again—now pregnant and with her husband—was a painful reminder of his loss. The thought of facing them, of witnessing their happiness, stirred a deep unease within him. Was he truly prepared for this?

"I see. Thank you for the information, Secretary Choi. I'll see you at the banquet tomorrow," Yeosang said, gathering his belongings and leaving for his chambers. He needed solitude to grapple with the revelation and to ready himself for the emotional challenge ahead.

"We'd like to extend our gratitude to all distinguished guests here today to celebrate the union between Joseon and Ruhon. May I present to you the match that will make all of this possible: our very own Ninth Prince Yeochan and the beautiful Princess Sarisu of Ruhon. Their Highnesses will be officially wed in a month. Now, let us all use this opportunity to congratulate the new couple on their impending marriage and wish them an eternity of happiness," the King of Joseon announced.

Oh. There she is.

Yeosang blinked. There you were, standing before the assembled guests. Indeed, you were present. And, of course, you were the Ruhon princess sacrificed for the peace treaty. The puzzle pieces began to fit together. That explained your knowledge and undeniable class—qualities far beyond those of any mere noblewoman. He supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised.

As if on cue, you turned and met his gaze. Your eyes widened slightly upon seeing him, your expression turning guilty. You opened your mouth, ready to mouth an apology, but before you had the chance, a tap on his shoulder quickly shifted his attention.

Likewise, your fiancé cleared his throat, sensing your distraction. He murmured in your ear, "Focus, princess. Don't you dare embarrass me." You blinked and nodded. While people on the outside might coo and assume the Ninth Prince was a loving fiancé, only you know the reality behind his facade.

"There you are, my prince!" the royal secretary called out. "The general and his wife are just over there," he informed, nodding toward the area where the couple could be seen. Seonghwa was deep in conversation with his handpicked military strategist, General Officer Song, while his wife was engaged in a chat with one of the royal physicians nearby.

Yeosang's breath hitched as soon as his eyes landed on the pregnant woman. In an instant, all thoughts of you and the revelation of your identity as the foreign princess meant to marry his brother vanished. All he could see and think about was the general's wife. It was the first time he had seen her since her wedding with General Park, and she looked… beautiful, as always. In fact, she seemed even more beautiful now, glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

Oh god, he realised he was still far from getting over her. Would he ever get over her? He didn't know, but for now, just for now, he needed to talk to her.

Taking a deep breath, he started toward her, his heart pounding with every step. As he approached, her laughter reached his ears, a sound that once brought him immense joy and now brought a bittersweet ache. It took her a moment to notice him, needing the royal physician she was speaking with to signal his presence. Her eyes widened in surprise when she turned to see him, starting to bow, but he stopped her before she could do so.

"It's been a while, my lady. Would you... care to catch up?" he asked.

She bit her lip, turning to meet her husband's warm gaze. The general nodded, indicating the decision was hers. Turning back to face the prince, she beamed. "Of course, Your Highness. Shall we talk over some snacks? Pregnancy cravings, you know," she joked, and he agreed, guiding her to the refreshments table.

"So, how have you been?" Yeosang asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and sorrow.

"I've been well, thank you," she responded, her hand instinctively moving to rest on her belly. "And you? How have you been?"

He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I've been… managing. It's good to see you looking so well."

She smiled again, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It's good to see you too, Your Highness. I heard you've been doing well with your studies and your duties."

The fourth prince nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. "Yes, I've been keeping busy." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I just wanted to say… congratulations. You look radiant."

"Thank you," she said softly, her smile genuine. "It means a lot coming from you."

He gulped, pausing briefly before meeting her eyes. "You are happy, aren't you? The general... he's treating you well, yes?" He knew that San had already assured him of this once, but he needed to hear it from her to be fully convinced, to properly let go.

The lady softened and nodded. "I am, my friend. I feel like the happiest woman on earth. I assure you, you don't have to worry about me. And yes, my husband is very good to me. I promise you, I'm telling the truth," she added with a hint of jest.

"That's good. That's all that matters to me, my lady. Promise me you'll invite me over once the baby's born," the fourth prince said, despite the light ache in his chest.

"Of course, Your Highness! You'll be the first I'll invite!" she replied, laughing warmly.

The two exchanged a few more words, their conversation unknowingly catching most people's eyes in the hall, given their well-known history. For those craving drama, it was slightly anticlimactic to see the two get along so well. While the King and Queen exchanged proud smiles, the ninth prince was less than pleased, again overshadowed by his elder brother. Even on his special day, Yeosang managed to steal the spotlight.

The fourth prince sensed all eyes on him, growing slightly self-conscious. He wasn't clueless; he hadn't been naive enough to ignore that his failed attempt to win General Park's wife had been the talk of the palace. People weren't scrutinising him merely for his birthmark and rebellious tendencies anymore, but also for his brave yet foolish pursuit of a taken woman—one who belonged to one of the most intimidating and feared individuals in all of Joseon.

Knowing it was time to make himself scarce, he took one last, long look at the lady he still held feelings for, reminding himself it was time to truly let go. She was happy, with child, about to build a family with her husband. It was wrong for him to still feel this way.

"I wish you happiness, my lady. May you have a safe delivery, and I look forward to meeting your mini you," he said, his voice tinged with genuine warmth and a lingering sorrow.

She giggled softly, nodding. "Thank you, my prince. I wish you all the happiness in the world as well."

With that, Yeosang finally bid the lady goodbye, not forgetting to shoot the general a grateful nod before making his way out of the hall. He needed somewhere quiet to organise his thoughts and emotions. As he walked away, the murmurs and whispers of the court followed him, a stark reminder of the weight of his actions and the expectations placed upon him.

Reaching a secluded garden within the palace grounds, now adorned with lanterns hanging from the trees as part of the celebration, he allowed himself to breathe deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs. The moonlight cast gentle shadows, and the lanterns emitted a soft glow, while the distant sounds of the banquet faded into the background. Alone with his thoughts, he closed his eyes, letting the reality of the situation wash over him.

He had seen her happiness, her radiant glow as an expectant mother, and it brought him a strange sense of peace. It was time to move forward, to let go of the past, and to find his own path to happiness.

Taking one last deep breath, he straightened up, a newfound resolve settling within him. It was time to face the future, whatever it might hold, with a heart unburdened by past regrets.

Time to move on, Kang Yeosang...

The night had never felt longer than it did now as you sat wearily beside your fiancé. You observed with curiosity as Prince Yeosang conversed with the beautiful Lady Park, catching the gossip from two palace maids nearby. So this was the woman who held the fourth prince's heart and was the reason for his significant change.

Love, indeed, was a strange force, altering people as soon as they were struck by its powerful emotions. You wondered if you would ever experience such feelings. But glancing to your left at your soon-to-be husband, you doubted it would ever happen. From here on, everything was merely a duty—this marriage, this commitment.

At some point, you noticed that Yeosang was no longer in sight. Ah, to leave as you please must be a luxury. Like him, you, too, would rather be anywhere but here. But with no choice, you remained seated, playing the role of the perfect fiancée to the ninth prince.

Nearing the end of the banquet, the overwhelming presence of false kindness around you became unbearable. Turning to Prince Yeochan, you forced a smile. "Your Highness, it seems the event is drawing to an end. I am feeling rather fatigued. May I please excuse myself?"

He turned to you, and you could see the effort it took for him not to roll his eyes as he too forced a grin. "Of course, love. Anything for my princess," he said, loud enough for his father to hear.

The King of Joseon nodded approvingly. "Go, my dear. The ninth prince shall attend to the remaining guests."

With a grateful bow, you departed, ignoring the searing gaze of your father on your back. You had avoided interacting with him all night; his presence made you sick to the core. If having a father meant having one like him, you would rather have none at all. You couldn't wait for him to leave, not wanting to see him any longer.

As soon as you were out of the hall, you dismissed the maids escorting you, preferring to be alone and sparing them the burden of accompanying the hated Ruhon princess. With a sigh of relief, your shoulders slumped, finally feeling a sense of freedom. You began walking aimlessly, letting your feet guide you wherever they pleased. Though you knew your way back to your quarters, you had no desire to return to that cage just yet. You needed fresh air, a moment of peace.

Your eyes sparkled in wonder when you stumbled upon a beautiful garden area illuminated by lanterns. The soft glow of the lanterns cast gentle shadows, creating a magical atmosphere. You paused, taking in the sight, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the banquet hall.

Wandering deeper into the garden, you savoured the solitude. The sounds of the banquet faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets. The garden felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could temporarily escape the expectations placed upon you.

Your breath hitched when you finally spotted a familiar figure sitting by the cobblestone ledge, facing a small pond. Carefully, you stepped towards him, unsure. Hearing your footsteps, he turned, causing you to freeze. With a small chuckle, he gestured to the spot beside him.

"Oh, hey there. Take a seat, princess." Your heart skipped a beat at the way he addressed you, genuine and without sarcasm, unlike your fiancé. And so you did, settling down beside him cautiously.

You swallowed nervously, avoiding his gaze, and asked in a whisper, "Aren't you angry with me, Your Highness? For deceiving you?"

He raised a brow in surprise and replied, "Why would I be, princess? Technically, I never inquired about your identity, and you haven't told me any lies. There is nothing for you to feel bad over, and absolutely no reason for me to be displeased. If anything, I'm quite happy to learn that you'll be staying here. You know, it's not often I encounter someone with a mind as exceptional as mine," he added with a teasing smile, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

A laugh escaped you, and you turned to face him, your heart fluttering at the sight of his warm and pretty smile. He extended his hand towards you. "Friends?"

You hesitated only for a moment before placing your hand in his. "Friends."

As you sat side by side, a tranquil silence enveloped you both. The gentle glow of lanterns bathed the garden in a soft, ethereal light, while the quiet murmurs of the pond added a serene backdrop to the moment. The moonlight shimmered on the water, creating a magical and soothing atmosphere.

You stole a glance at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. For the first time since your arrival, the oppressive weight of loneliness seemed to lift. His presence beside you brought a sense of calm and companionship that had been sorely missing.

Perhaps, after all, being here wasn't so bleak. The evening's initial discomfort had given way to a blossoming connection. As you shared this peaceful moment, you couldn't help but think that this might be the start of something truly significant—a genuine friendship. The idea of finding someone who truly understood and accepted you kindled a warm hope in your heart.

I think I'll be just fine here, Mother.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Thank you, my King," the mother of the nation murmured softly, holding her husband's hand as they settled into bed.

His Majesty raised an eyebrow, glancing at her with curiosity. "For what, my wife?"

The Queen sighed, her gaze distant. "For not forcing the fourth prince into this arranged marriage. I was afraid you might do so as part of his punishment, to settle him down once and for all."

The ruler of Joseon exhaled deeply. "I won't deny it, my Queen. I did consider it. But then I remembered Lady Park's words—he has endured enough already. It's my fault he became the man he is. I have not been the father he needed, and the least I can do now is honour his wishes, even if it means he chooses not to marry."

Her Majesty nodded, her voice gentle. "I have not been the best mother either. But perhaps it is time we make amends. This decision is for the best."

"It is," the King agreed, his tone resolute.

Surprise!! Didn't think I'd update on a Wednesday but long story short, I got injured and am on medical leave today. So, I figured, why not use this time to write? HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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